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an hour after Lew Flapp and his cronies left camp, Dick Rover and his brothers received permission to do likewise.

"Let us go to the village," suggested Tom. "I want to buy some cough drops. My throat is raw from the wet weather."

"And I want to get some reading matter," added Sam. "A good story of some sort would just suit me."

"I wouldn't mind a magazine or two myself," came from Dick. "But I don't know if Oakville can supply them."

They were soon on the way, each in the best of spirits. Tom began to whistle and his brothers joined in.

"Feelin' putty good," queried a farmer, who chanced to be leaning over his garden gate as they passed.

"Why not?" retorted Tom. "It's better to whistle than to cry."